A Devil's Legacy
by StoryBookGhoolies
Summary: Noelle Manning has been shipped off to her grandma's rural house in the Florida countryside after a car accident breaks both her wrist and leg. Her leg's healed and her wrists on it's way but that's not her only worry. Mysterious student Rob Alkins has caught her eye and she feels like there's something different about him, not to mention the bizarre history of her new home. OCXOC!
1. Church

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jeepers Creepers, The Creeper, or any canon based ideas, characters, sets and such involved in this fanfic, it belongs to Victor Salva who invented the set up anyways. Nicole Alkins and The Raven (the Creepers son), belong to the ever wonderful and talented TheMortition and I suggest you check out the fanfic '****What Do You Want From Me?****' before you read this, just to clear anything else up. Any other original concepts, characters, ideas or settings belong to me however. I am sadly not profiting off this in anyways.**

**A/N: Well, here we are again, at the beginning of a new tale! Today we're taking a trip to Prescott County in Florida (this is fictional of course and I made it up because I don't remember the Jeepers Creepers location ever being formed). I've sadly had to do a lot of guess work with dates so sorry if anyone doesn't like my timescale but I was simply working via guesses, not via actual facts which I'd been able to discover. The only information I could get about the location is that it was the Florida countryside and the time it was set in was unknown. My fanfic is set in 2004, with Nicole's experience having happened back in 1985. Sorry if you hate me for this, but I had to take a couple of guesses about the time Jeepers Creepers was set in, and I chose the 80's because to me it seemed a safe bet. I hope you enjoy reading this fanfic and I hope you like my protagonist Noelle; this chapter is a little basic, but I wanted to ease you into the story and what's going on. Please rate and review, but I'm not enforcing it! I just hope you enjoy my work!**

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The atmosphere in the car was almost as suffocating as the blistering heat roaring down from the sunny skies which sat up above our small car; I'd never been much of a summer girl, and the way the weather was making me definitely reflected that side of me. I was surprised perspiration hadn't begun to build up on the windows the heat was becoming so unbearable; it was like the time my parents had taken me to one of those tropical domes where you can feel like you live in a rainforest, and I almost fainted then anyways. Maybe being born in December had this impact on me, or maybe I was just born as one of those people who react badly to intense heat?

Trickles of sweat were beginning to form on the inside of the cast which encircled my right arm, itchy little bubbles beginning to slowly slide down my arm. Dozens of names littered the fading, creamy-whiteness of it; most of the names belonged to the 'hooligans' (what dad called them), more commonly known as my friends, but the odd signature or name belonged to one of my many former classmates. My bags, one of which was my former school bag, aligned the back seat like a little battalion of soldiers waiting for my orders to attack or something along the lines of that. The boxes I'd packed on Thursday were placed in the boot, the ones with precious valuables in them wrapped with a protective cocoon of bubble wrap so my more expensive, and important, possessions weren't broken during the sometimes bumpy car journey we'd been taking across the states, but I figured my dad wanted to improve our somewhat fractured relationship.

But this wasn't a holiday or some family trip out, and _we_ weren't moving house. _I_ was moving. I would've moved out five months ago, but we were waiting for the leg brace to come off, so my house moving was postponed. It was just me going to Granny Kath's house, neither my parents, nor my older sister Annette were going, just me. It was impossible for my older brother Luke to go, because he'd moved out our suburban three story home over a year ago. I guess you could argue this was a form of punishment, but it wasn't directed at me; it was directed entirely at my best friend, Kendell Richmond, the causer of my broken wrist and leg.

I'd told her she shouldn't have been driving after drinking the sheer amount of beer she had at Stacie Copula's seventeenth birthday, but she'd insisted on driving me home, although I'd only had half of one, making me the much more competent, and safer driver. She hadn't seen the navy blue pickup truck coming when she'd attempted to jump the light, just five minutes away from my house. The truck had slammed into the side of Kendell's red mini, practically crushing the door on impact, knocking her unconscious the second the door connected with right hand side of her body; but it was me who had the real damage inflicted. Due to the force of the truck hitting her car, my seatbelt had managed to snap on impact, causing me to fall straight onto the passenger side's door; although I'd span mid-air, making it my right hand side which had slammed harshly against the door, not my left, embedding my wrist with tiny bits of broken glass and snapping my upper leg bones straight upon impact. A sharp, red-hot needle of pain had burst sharply into my leg, numbing the sparking stinging sensation which had erupted in my wrist in comparison. And all I remember before passing out was shrieking like a banshee as I heard the sound of sirens begin to chime in the distant. Just my luck I lived near a police station; and it didn't help that my dad was the sheriff's deputy.

One 'official family meeting' later, my mom and dad ended up coming up with the conclusion that me moving to the backwood, countryside of Florida where my dad had grown up, would be the best for me. Maybe he figured there would be no 'party crazy, drunken, reckless drivers' in the backwoods of Florida as he'd oh-so politically correctly put it! Having deputy sheriff, Lee Manning, as my father meant I couldn't get away with breaking strangely without his ears pricking up and then being asked a hundred and one questions relating towards it; and he figured that a town with less than three thousand people living there was the perfect destination for me to begin living, in an attempt to get me away from my 'reckless' friend Kendell. Part of me figured my dad never truly liked Kendell, even though we'd been best friends from the second grade, although I couldn't really blame him for it; her mom, Sasha Richmond, had been a call girl who'd abandoned Kendell from a young age and she'd ended up going into care, which had probably influenced her issues when it came towards alcoholism and drug abuse. She was filling a hole her mother had put there.

Maybe I'd become friends with her because part of me always wished I could be a little bit more like Kendell; a fiery, tough, vibrant, somewhat reckless, fun-loving, exciting, exhilarating, confident, secure, inciting, sociable, colourful badass, compared to my boring, meek, well-mannered, rule-obeying, overly mature, reclusive, quiet, cowardly nobody. During my time in junior high, if someone ever picked on me, I'd simply look down at my work and swallow back my rising tears; Kendell would usually end up getting in either a verbal or physical fight, and would even end up getting in them if someone dared pick on me when she was there or if I told her. In return I'd always end up helping her out with some form of homework and explain things to her. That was the only thing I had an advantage over her with: intelligence. I grew up a law-abiding, straight-A student whilst she grew up an immature, straight-D student.

I guess we were quite the spectacle to our classmates who'd known us since we became friends all those years ago. Kendell with her eventual 5'1 and chubby build which made people often underestimate her massively because of her weight and height; with her chubby, pleasant face which was almost heart-shaped but not quite, a nice snubbed nose and high, impressive cheekbones which definitely stood out on her plumped face, not discounting the amazingly deep colour of her tree-sap amber eyes which shone out of her face like beacons on a lighthouse. Her face was outlined with perfectly straightened hair which wavered around her shoulders, a shade of blonde so light it borderlined white; of course this wasn't her natural coloured, and she'd bleached it two years ago when we were fifteen and liked it that way. Her natural hair colour had been a sort of chestnut brown which I'd always loved, so I'd never understood why she'd bleached it but didn't ask; sometimes the tiniest of things put her in a bad mood and she'd refuse to speak to me for days. The bleached blonde looked a little…Tacky I suppose against her naturally russet skin. She'd always wear dark leather jackets, dark jeans with a pair of pointy-toed, black leather heeled boots which reached her calf level; like I said total badass material.

Then you'd have to turn your eyes to me, or should that be _drag_ your eyes to me? I'm taller than her, but that's just because my dad's 6'3" and my mom's 5'11", so it figures I'm not too small when it comes to the height stakes. I'm not as tall as my big brother Luke, who stands at an incredible 6'5", or my sister Annette who stands at 6'1"; I simply stand at just 5'7" but I guess I'm going to grow even taller as time passes. I had a couple of friends back in the city, such as Robin Drake and Jesse Gilbert, towered above me but I was pretty tall compared to the girl's. I've always been fair skinned opposed to her tan, looking like a little snowwoman compared to her Amazonian warrior princess; I've always had a very pale complexion, which isn't helped by the naturally tanned majorative of my bunch of friends. It doesn't help that I inherited my mother's dark brown hair, the colour of seal fur, called that because it resembles the colour of an appropriately named fur seals fur; it's long, straight and just peaks my waist, although it sort of flicks outwards at the end. My face is heart-shaped, only just though, with a slim jawline, long nose with a point to the end, and large, even spaced eyes; my eyes are an iris blue colour, so blue they almost look purple. Overall, people tell me I'm pretty, and I have to agree, but my bland personality puts people off me immediately; and I lack the breast and thigh Kendell does.

Looking back on it though, none of my "friends" were really my friends; they were definitely more Kendell's friends; even with my slender figure, large iris blue eyes, and pretty face, yet bland figure, they never really accepted me, only liking me because I could help them get out of trouble when it came to my dad. Sometimes I even doubted if they were proper friends with Kendell, mainly relying on her for drugs and booze; but recently I hadn't even been sure what terms I was on with Kendell. She wasn't too happy when I announced my dad's decision and pestered me to 'stand up to him', but that's impossible, impossible for someone as cowardly and overly-paranoid as me. I knew if I tried standing up to someone, it'd only end up with my father becoming more determined to send me to my gran's, and, even though I still ended up going, arguing back with him would just worsen the situation.

Wearing a grey tank-top didn't accelerate my chest like it would with most women, and my pale blue jeans were only just bearable in the burning summer sun; being slim is good in some aspects, but my overall body proportions played out fairly. I lacked circumstantial chest area, and my thighs were slimmer than all the other girls I'd ever really known, bar a few. Being tall as well as slim limits your chances of getting a good chest and thigh mass, but I've gotten over it as my teenage years have passed by. The worse causer of sweat was my arm cast but that was something I couldn't deal with so I'd simply had to turn the air conditioning up to full blast and sit it out, waiting for the heat to mercifully calm down a little so I didn't feel faint or dizzy anymore. I was only thankful our car wasn't any more crowded or I would've fainted by this point. So far my father and I hadn't spoken so much as a line of dialogue without it being stuffy and awkward, just feeling plain wrong.

Dad knew how annoyed I was with him, resenting the fact I was being dragged away from my friends and the city which I'd grown up in, feeling comfortable there; but it wasn't really all because of that. If you overviewed my annoyance directed towards my father, it was more to do with my Granny Kath. It was nothing personal, I'd just never really gotten to know her over my seventeen years of life; the last time we'd visited her I was six years old, a full eleven years ago. We'd spent Christmas with her, which awkwardly coincided with my birthday, on the 24th of September, which resulted in my practically ridiculous name. I was born Noelle Delia Manning, named Noelle because I was born so near to Christmas, only missing out by a day; I swear if I was born on the 25th, I would've literally been named fucking Christmas Manning. Then there are my older siblings Luke Alexander Manning and my older sister Annette Nancy Manning; Annette's nineteen and at college, studying fashion journalism, whilst Luke's moved out of our house and is living in Arizona now, with his wife Alice and daughter, Mollie. So my families pretty broken apart at the moment.

I suppose dad must be pretty broken up about me moving away to the desolate countryside of Florida, but he's clearly reasoned it over in his head, making sure he's totally assured with his reasoning for why he's sending me off to live with Granny Kath. His eyes, the same iris blue as my own, shone with concentration as he steadily kept his eyes focused onto the road; his sandy coloured hair, curling like the ends of my own, fell slightly in front of his eyes and clearly needed to get a haircut sometime soon although so far he hadn't been able to arrange one. What, with me and my physiotherapy, Luke getting married to Alice, and Annette planning for college, he was pretty stressed, meaning haircuts were probably the last thing on his mind by that precise point in time. Part of me wished I could've inherited my father's sandy coloured hair, because it would've looked better with my violet-blue coloured eyes; then again, no-one gets to pick their own chromosomes, which is a good thing or people would literally model themselves to look like anime characters or some crazy shit like that. In today's modern world, with image being everything, I should know that all too well.

As trees and fields flew by, including the odd house, I saw something which slightly mystified me; hidden within a large grove, mainly composed of trees and long, overgrown strands of grass sat a building which I thought would never appear in such a desolate area. It was a church. It was constructed out of either white wood or white plaster with a coppery coloured roof, but apart from that was rather different to any other church I'd ever seen; it was old and desolate looking, and the closer we got I could tell it was in fact made of wood, due to the fact several planks of it had fallen out over time, mainly near the top of the construction. The spire had been broken off and now only a small, rather pitiful stump remained, marking it as a holy building; the moss smothered steps which led up to it looked so old I think if I'd so much as stepped on one they would have crumbled and I would've fallen over. The windows and doors were all open and empty, with the windows being boarded up with beige planks of wood and secured, but the two doors were left wide open, which surprised me. But more surprising still were the two vehicles which sat outside, nestled in the mint green coloured grass, but they were clearly visible to someone with sharp eyes like me; one of them was a huge, brown, rusting truck, something I'd never seen before it was so odd. To be fair, where I come from not many people own any form of trucks, but it still surprised me then. It looked like it hadn't been used in years, and no wonder why, but it was the second object which surprised me more. It was a 66 Harley Davidson, painted purely white; the only reason I knew its make was because my brother owned one of the same, only his was painted red. The strange thing was though, how fresh and new it looked compared to the crumbling church and rusted truck.

"Quite the eye saw, isn't it." My father spoke up, making me jump slightly so I turned my eyes back to him, and nodded, not sure of what to say. "When I was a kid everyone used to say a monster lived in the old church; a huge, winged creature which fed on the flesh of humans every twenty-something years. Didn't stop us from going up there and drinking every weekend."

"Oh Lee, you badass!" I muttered under my breath, causing him to begin laughing and he smiled at me, which immediately managed to evaporate the tension which had formed between us in the car, a huge relief to both of us. "Seriously though, why monster? I mean…Even home had that stupid legend about the man with a hook who stalked the woods, which at least eighteen other states in America probably share. I mean, as mom likes to say, when you're making up an urban legend at least try to make it believable; last time I checked, winged batman wasn't too _realistic_."

"First of all," he started, pausing to increase our cars speed from fifty to sixty mph, "Well…" He looked unsure of how to continue but found a way pretty quickly because he continued speaking. "Every twenty-three years, Prescott would be plagued by a series of murders or missing persons. The victims ranged in age and gender, but they'd always disappear after spending time driving out on the highways. They were often tourists but the police department out here got a really bad rep because of it."

"I'm guessing that's why you didn't stay here when you decided to join the force." Was all I could say, trying to ignore the cold plummet forming in my stomach, wondering why dad had let me come to live here with all these unsolved murders and missing person's. Prescott County, Florida turned out to be the state's unsolved murder capital when I checked it out at the local library; never a promising sign if you're going to be living here.

"Exactly," dad nodded and looked at me. "But you don't need to worry, Noe." Noe was the nickname I'd earned from an early age, but it felt weird to be called it again by him, because since I was twelve he'd simply called me Noelle. Maybe coming out here had changed something about him and his worries, due to all the murders and disappearances, were beginning to creep back in. "It's only been nineteen years since the last case, and if this is an incredibly organized gang or even _family_ of serial killers, and by the time it's reached twenty-three I have a feeling you'll have come back to the city. Look, I know you're not exactly thrilled, or even happy, about coming out here but…The accident, it just really shook me up, me and your mom. I worried that it wouldn't be the last time either. Ever since that girl got a drivers licence I knew something like this was going to happen. I just didn't know it was going to be you."

"Dad, I'm sorry!" I sighed, looking at him and smiled slightly at him. "I just didn't know how drunken Kendell was. She told me she'd only had a couple of beers and I believed her; I didn't know how well she could fake being sober…" He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, smiling softly at me, his eyes warm for once.

"I know, Noelle. I'm sorry if this feels like a punishment because you're being sent away from Kendell and all your other friends but…Well, as you've probably guessed, me and your mom aren't exactly the biggest fans of the crowd you socialize with. This wouldn't have happened if Annette hadn't started getting worried too, and she's never been the greatest one for decision making." Now that was true, Annette had gotten into a _really_ bad crowd when she was in high school; I'm talking drug dealers and addicts, people who were really off their faces when it came to drugs. Her being concerned over my friends automatically made everything clearer. "It was her worries which made me certain sending you to live with my mother was actually for the best."

"I understand," I said solemnly before realising there was something I needed to ask him. "Um…Dad, did you see that Harley outside the creepy church building? It was like, really new and shiny looking, painted white? It looked kinda out of place."

"No…Why?" He asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"It just seemed really strange," I nodded, agreeing with my own statement, strange as it was. "The way the truck looked so old…" He cut me off then.

"Oh that truck's been there for years! No-one's ever claimed it as their own; it's just sat out there. But, every twenty-three years, apparently people see it roaring down the highway. But a bike you said?"

"Yeah," I nodded, but this time it was rather uncertainly. "It was really white, the same make of Luke's I think, and it was just sorta…Standing there, leaning against the wall, it looked really out of place because the rest of that church area's just so run down."

"Were there any other vehicles with it?" My dad asked, and I had the embarrassing worry he wanted to go all cop and bust some drug taking teens.

"No," I shook my head quickly, trying to save my own dignity in case he did decided to go and try investigating the old, rotting church. "Just that one bike, which was…I guess what I found the strangest. It was just parked there by itself; no other cars were with it."

My dad shook his head, but luckily kept the car going in the direction we'd been flowing in, not doing one of the U-turns he occasionally did which made me almost fall out the car once. "Maybe it was just some kid taking a look at the old place? A lot of us used to do it when I lived her, and, seeing as there's still enough kids for a high school, I guess a lot of them must go and check out the old place sometimes. Me and your uncle once went there exploring, but we ended up scaring ourselves more than the house did; the place works solely on the art of using your imagination to frighten you more than anything you'll end up seeing. The worst things you'll ever see are just a couple of dead rat and the odd dead crow. For some reason those birds seem to love that church, maybe it's all the rats." He shrugged. "All I'm saying is, it was probably nothing; nothing to get yourself worked up over."

I nodded and leant back into my seat, still wondering about the odd car. "Anything else you can tell me about this place dad? Y'know," I added quickly. "Just so I can get prepare myself for Monday, when I start school." It was Friday, but it was already 2:24 in the afternoon and dad knew there was no way we'd have arrived quick enough for me to be able to start school today. "So I know what the kids will be like."

"Hmm…" He paused for a couple of minutes before responding to my question. "Well I guess, this place is traditionally tight nit, like most small towns located in the South. The kids might be a little standoffish at first, but they'll warm up to you over time, especially once they realise I'm your dad. Being the kid of a local immediately makes your time easier here, even if said local moved away over twenty years ago." He laughed at that, then smiled back at me, but it faded after another minute of thinking happened. "But…There's someone I'd suggest you stay away from. I mean, I never believed the rumours which circulated around this particular person, but…There were a lot of rumours, even back then when she first arrived."

"Who is this?" I asked uncertainly. "I mean. I think I might need a name and description so I can hopefully stay away from this woman."

"Oh sorry!" He said quickly, but I just smiled at him and he continued. "Her name's Nicole Alkins, she'll be about forty-one by now, couple years younger than your mom." Two to be precise, I thought. "I was twenty-four and had almost completed my police training when she turned up in town; she used to be a friend of your mom's for her first couple of years here, while your mom was doing her geography studies so she could become a teacher." Good old mom, teaching high school level geography, although she'd luckily not chosen my former high school to teach at. "She was about 5'5" and last I heard from your gran she'd stayed that height; shoulder length dark brown hair, probably longer by now, hazel brown eyes, pale skinned. Fairly pretty, but there was something which hung around her, a cloud of misery."

"What does that mean?" I asked cautiously. "Do you mean like…She was cursed? Bad things kept happening to her?"

"Not to Nicole specifically," he shook his head. "But to those around her. She came out here with her cousin, Elizabeth Isleton, more commonly known as Bess, and her cousins' friends; Paul Armstrong, Bess' boyfriend, Taylor Stokes, her best friend, and their three other friends James Gray, more commonly known as Jimmie, Devon Castaneda and Deanna Sargent. To be fair, the six of them were drug taking, reckless lowlife's, but…They didn't deserve what happened never the less." He swallowed thickly, as if the next bit was unpleasant. "They came here in 1985, twenty-three years after the past spree of killings and…Well," he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sure you can guess what happened then."

"They were killed." I mumbled and my dad just nodded to tell me I was correct.

"Only Nicole survived, but she was kidnapped and raped by the murderer; she claimed she couldn't remember anything about him and the baby…" He paused again, swallowing tightly. "It was born horribly deformed and presumed dead, but she persuaded them to let her keep it and she did." He shook his head again but patted me lightly on the shoulder, as if to reassure me it was all fine. "She left town after that to attend art college but returned three years later with a baby; obviously not the one she'd had after her traumatic experience, but apparently she'd met another guy, they'd even got engaged but in the end things hadn't worked out, although she was left with her son, Robert, more commonly known as Rob." I nodded and gestured for him to carry on talking. "It's just…Due to the winged demon legend circulating around the town, some people believed she'd in fact bred with the demon and the deformed child was a result. They called her a witch and…" He sighed again, this time it was a lot sharper though. "Basically, I heard a couple of dogs went missing when she came back and even I'm not too sure about her now. She owns the Earth Child Emporium on White Street; it's a Wiccan shop, dishes out spell books, equipment for spells, crystal balls ect. In fact, your gran really likes her, but…I'd just be careful."

"So…Let me get this straight…" I muttered. "This Nicole Alkins lady is apparently a witch who had a baby with a demon and killed dogs to feed they're demon baby blood?"

"That's what folks like to say," was all he replied. "I mean, like I said, don't believe everything you hear around these parts, people are fanatical when it comes to legends, so a woman opening a Wicca shop really stirred them all up. Especially because of the brutal killings which happened revolving around her; people just got superstitious and began throwing ridiculous theories out there, because they didn't truly understand the situation. Don't listen to the town crazies, but just…Stay away from her too. It's nothing personal, I just don't want you getting involved within people's rumours; if you began hanging around Nicole and her shop, people would then assume you were a demon groupie as well and would begin hassling your gran over it. She's not too well already and that could seriously harm her, so no visiting Nicole Alkins, deal?"

"Deal." I said firmly and then laughed slightly. "No visiting the supposed witch on White Street, and no getting involved with demons." We both laughed at that and I shook my head. "But what about the son? I mean…Does he know about all these rumours? What happened to him?"

"Still lives here," dad explained. "He'll be in your year actually, but, and this is just speculation; I'm guessing he won't be the football team captain or king of the socialites. Due to the rumours about his mom I'm guessing his reputation was tarnished as well, which really isn't his fault, but I suppose life's unfair like that. Not to sound like a stereotypical dad but I don't think it'd be good if you hung around him either; I'm not discounting he could be a lovely boy, but again, the rumours which would speculate could make your gran really ill and I feel I've caused her enough hassle. I mean, it'll be good with you there I guess," He turned and smiled at me, his eyes radiating warmth. "Just so she has someone to talk to and keep her company…" He trailed off as the car rounded a bend and we began making our way up a long stretch of greenery, which I realised led up to my gran's house.

"Where do they live then?" I asked and he looked at me strangely, making me realise he had no clue who I was talking about. "Nicole Alkins and her son, Rob, I mean. Like, where do they live out here?"

"Apparently," my father continued looking straight ahead, but occasionally his eyes would slide to the side, watching me, making sure I was fine. "She earned a lot of money selling paintings in college and I can understand why, I've seen some and they're amazing. But anyways, she earned herself a lot of money, enough to build her own house and that's what she did. A couple of miles north of the old church, she built this farm, where she and her son now live. From the photos I've seen its spectacular, nothing I've ever seen is that complicated or wonderful. Stained glass windows, endless fields, it looked more like a church than the actual church!" He laughed slightly. "But apparently it's pretty hard to find. You have to drive quite some way out of the main town area to find the farm, and even then people keep away, for obvious reasons. But hush now!" He tapped me on the shoulder. "We have reached your gran's house and for some reason she has a fondness for Ms Alkins, so don't tell her what I've been telling you."

"Promise." I grinned at him and laughed, before turning my eyes back to the house which was now directly in front of me. It was a lovely house, and even reminded me a little of the spooky old church if someone had been keeping it in better condition; like pretty much every other house I'd seen as we'd taken the long journey out here, it was made of white wooden planks, and stood at the traditional two stories high, maybe three if you counted the infamous basement my dad used to tell me about as a little girl. The windows were all partially covered with the same white cloth curtain and the porch had one of those hanging swing seats on it, dangling from two silver chains. It was a pleasant house, much nicer than our boring brick one, and radiated a much nicer aura due to its white colouring.

An elderly woman, with slightly wrinkling, pale skin stood on the front porch, at the top of the freshly painted white steps. It was the eyes which evidently gave her away as my dad's mother, they were the same iris blue of my own and his, almost glowing in the midst of her creamy-white skin. Her hair was silver coloured, running down her back in a neatly fashioned French plat; she was dressed strangely practical for a woman of seventy-one years old with her creamy-yellow coloured slacks and white cardigan which matched the whiteness of her top. Her feet were covered with a pair of beige coloured sandals, and her toenails were painted a bright red colour. Her face was soft and heart-shaped, like my mom's and my own, but much more defindely so and her thin mouth was pulled into a smile. "Leighton!" She grinned, calling my dad by his full name, not his abbreviated 'Lee'. "How lovely to see you again! And this must be Noelle," she turned her eyes to me. "My! You have grown into a beautiful young woman! It'll be lovely to have you stay with me!"

I felt the colour rush to my cheeks but dad, thank god, spoke up for me. "Hasn't she just!" He laughed. "And I'm sure she's going to be very happy staying here, especially because the move caused me to buy her a present she's very much going to be needing if she's going to live out here!"

"Present?" I asked cautiously. My parents haven't always had the best of tastes when it comes to buying me gifts, but this time, I was pleasantly shocked. Not 'surprised', I was 'shocked', and that was solely down to the price tag which must've come with this rather expensive gift I was being presented. "Oh my God…" I muttered the minute I looked to my left. "You bought me a _car!?_" On the driveway's incredibly empty space, bar my gran's old, fading green 1950's Chevy Pickup, was a car which looked startling modern opposed to it. The car was sleek and black, it's make was a Mercedes-Benz S-Class, according to my dad, and looked far too modern for Prescott County with its pickup trucks and vast collection of motorbikes; I figured it'd make me stand out even more when I started my new school. But then it hit me. I needed a car to get around. It was only then when I realised how isolated my father's hometown truly was, and how isolated I was going to become.


	2. First Impressions?

**Disclaimer: I don't owner Jeepers Creepers, nor any of the original content which can be found within this fic, they all belong to Victor Salva. Nicole Alkins, Raven 'Robert/Rob' Alkins and Jamie Camacho all belong to the ever wonderful, glories and genius TheMortition so please checkout 'What Do You Want From Me?' first because it might clear up any plot holes you might find this story has for you!**

**A/N: Chapter 2! And the introduction of Robert 'Rob' Alkins is to be revealed, as well as his slightly odd reaction to Noelle. This is set on a Sunday, two days after her arrival in Prescott County, and she's nervously awaiting her first day of school, so she decides to go and check out the local diner (the one Derry and Trish went to in the first movie) in the hopes of making some new friends. There she meets teenage outcast and horror film addict Jamie Camacho who offers her some advice on how to deal with school and his own 'theories' on the truth behind Rob Alkins-the school's star baseball team runner. But are any of these half-baked ideas accurate or is Jamie truly suffering after spending eleven years caring for his depressed and unstable mother? Is there something more than what meets the eye about Rob or is it all just misunderstandings upon his behalf? Read and see.**

Streams of light shot through my new bedroom's window, peaking through a crack in the fading white coloured curtains which I hadn't drawn as expertly as my Granny Kath could've. I'd dressed loosely for bed, wearing a simple white tank top and navy blue shorts, with my hair tied back into a tight plat, so it didn't tangle during the night. Gently slipping the band off the end of my hair, I did the timewasting process of unlinking each lock of hair from its intertwined pattern which threaded the locks of my hair neatly together. I'd kept the window open by a couple of cm's that night because of the stuffy, sweat inducing heat which had been radiating throughout my new room. Even with my new Mercedes-Benz S-Class, courtesy of my dad, it couldn't draw anything away from the burning heat which rolled over the fields of the Floridian countryside.

Thinking about it however, it suddenly made sense why people might see the appeal living out here, especially people with teenage kids. Prescott County appealed to them in the exact same way it'd appealed to my dad when he was trying to decide what sort of place would be good for me to go for some 'cooling down' period whilst my wrist, and trust in Kendell, healed. Places like this were full of god-fearing, law-abiding citizens, with little to no crime; sure, Prescott was a little different, but as long as you weren't living here during the twenty-three year period time leap, you were perfectly safe from whatever was out there, stalking the highways for victims. Part of me wondered if it was all just some elaborate hoax, a bunch of drunken college students had invented, roping in more and more people over the course of time, so it became one of the biggest stunts America had ever witnessed. But the other part of me, the nervous, _proper_ part of me knew there was at least some truth behind it.

Looking back, I remembered how as we'd driven past the sign which announced we'd finally reached Prescott County, how I'd seen a load of white pieces of paper stuck around the borders of the sign, and it hit me. They were missing person's flyers; the sorts you see in places like New York and Seattle. They littered the edges of the sign and it finally hit me how many people had gone missing over the years. I simply shook my head at the thought, trying to push it to the back of my mind, but it'd unnerved me; knowing all those people had met some sort of brutal or even yet unknown, end in my new hometown. Part of me wanted to run over to my chest of draws, grab my cell phone and ring dad, begging him to take me home where I'd end up feeling safe and where no nasty, ugly, winged demon men could catch me and do god-knows-what to me. but I didn't want to leave the gran I barely knew alone again, and besides, I figured I should've known better when I got into the car that Kendell had lied about her alcohol intake; besides, like I mentioned, I wasn't even too sure any of my 'friends' were missing me. Maybe I could make some real ones here.

Sighing, I looked around my gran's former guest room and couldn't help but smile at the lavender painted walls and white bedspread with a deep indigo throw, which felt like it was made of silk but I wasn't too sure, tossed across the duvet cover. My gran had judged my taste in colours well. Several, spiralling glass decorative objects hung from pieces of string attached to nails embedded into the window frame, wavered slightly in the wind which was blowing gently through the open crack at the bottom of the window where I'd opened it. Most of the unpacking had been done last night luckily, with only a couple of boxes containing simple things such as bags and coats remaining; my clothing had been packed away into the large, oak chest of draws, and my ornaments I'd received as presents from Granny Kath sat along them in a small, neat row of carefully crafted pieces of art. My favourites were the dancing glass elephants, with little tutus glazed around their waists, the glass having been dyed a special pink colour for contrast. Looking so neat, prim and beautiful.

Shaking my head slightly, so my hair could bounce out a little, I opened the top draw to rifle through my clothes. The clock which hung above my bed ticking quietly read 11:18 and I'd wanted known the journey would cause me to sleep in; besides, I wanted to get out today and explore town, or at least what remained of it, because I'd hoped to actually meet someone of my own age, or at least close to it, meaning I wouldn't have to spend all my time indoors surfing the internet or doing homework. Besides, I figured my gran wouldn't want me to come downstairs in a loose-fitting strappy top and a pair of shorts, it'd be incredibly awkward for the both of us, even with her being one of the kindest people I'd ever met. There are some things you don't want to see when it comes to family, and granddaughters in tank tops and shorts probably rank pretty high on that list as long as you're not counting situations involving nudity.

Heat was still lingering in the already stuffy, uncomfortable atmosphere, so I knew today would be another lightly coloured clothing day. Wearing something like navy, or even a deep purple, would've been incredibly stupid on my behalf and, seeing as I've never been good during the heat, probably would've ended up with me fainting. Fishing through my draws, picking up pieces of clothing, inspecting them and deciding that I didn't want to wear them took longer than usual that morning; looking through my clothing collection, most of my chosen pieces were unfortunately darker coloured, meaning they weren't ideal summer clothing. My previous home had never gotten too warm, so I'd never needed a load of floral dresses or pure white shorts; I'd only ever needed navy jeans and deep grey jumpers. Lightly coloured, good summer clothing had never seemed too important to me. Until now. Eventually I was forced to settle with a black pair of shorts, although not ideal they were my only relatively comfy pair of denim shorts; and a white tank-top, although this one had a much snugger fit than the one I chose for bed attire. A simple white belt threaded through the shorts and a dark green pair of heeled Mary-Jane's, with white socks reaching my kneecaps to finish off the cutesy look, I was ready.

* * *

I'd always been a safe driver, but my recent accident had made me even more cautious, despite the fact I hadn't been driving at the time of it. I practically ended up crawling round the corner at the end of the wooded lane which lead to my gran's house, nervously peering into the open, silent air, paranoid a random car was going to shoot round the bend and slam into my own. When I'd gotten up finally, I'd found that gran was still in bed and had simply written a simple note telling her I was heading out to the diner I'd seen on the side of a road about twenty minutes from her house, and had placed it on the table where I'd know she'd find it. I'd ended up scraping my hair out of my eyes with a velvet green hairband I'd found at the bottom of one of my boxes, one I hadn't used in years, but realised it went nicely with my shoes and, being a total perfectionist when it comes to my looks, decided to use it opposed to tying my hair back.

On the way out the door, I'd subconsciously picked up a jacket, a habit I'd grown into after years of being used to a frosty nip in the air. Even in the summer it would occasionally grow a little bit cooler than any other place I'd ever been to, so picking up a jacket when I was due to go out was a deep settled habit I'd ended up having after years of living in a cooler place. The jacket, to my surprise, was another gift from my Granny Kath, which had only arrived last Christmas so it still fit; it was pleasantly surprising to know she knew my jacket size and so I still fit it when I tried it on and decided to keep it on. Of course, sweat immediately began to form, but going to a diner in a pair of shorts and a strappy t-shirt often radiated bad signals to others, who end up believing I'm up for being hit on. Of course this wasn't personal knowledge, but Annette knew all too well what it was like, and I often ended up listening to her advice.

The jacket was dark green, a sort of murky colour, like the colour of swamp water and made out of leather, making it increase the amount of perspiration levels which formed on my upper body, especially my back. Beads of sweat had already begun to form on my skin, making my back itchy and leaning into the leather of the seat became very uncomfortable, but I knew I'd rather wear a heavy leather jacket opposed to having some perverted drunk try to feel me up. The jacket had zips at the ends of the sleeves which, when pulled back, exposed up to the highest point of my wrist; not very practical, but fashionable I guess. The main bit of decoration on the jacket was a large, golden eagle which had been stitched on with matching golden thread. All in all, it made me look partially badass, but my personality would immediately let me down. I silently thanked my gran in my head, loving her even more for buying me such lovely clothes and opening her home up to me.

We hadn't spoken much over dinner, but I could tell she was pleased to have someone living with her now that my dad, aunt and uncle were off living their own lives in other parts of the state, or with my aunt, other continents of the world. All I gathered was that she was incredibly content in Prescott County, and was even more content now that I'd come out here to join her in her pretty, white wooden house, to keep her compassionate, friendly self company. I knew she had several friends in the main town area and had learned how to drive when she was fifty so she could visit them; she'd informed me there were several practical stores, a book shop, a couple of cafes, and some other things but clothes shopping had to be done in Winslow, the nearest largely populated town near Prescott County, which was a forty-five minute drive away from our house. It wasn't going to matter to me much though anyways; I had a large selection of fitting clothes and figured I'd only need to go there for a prom dress. Ouch. Now that was two scary thoughts in one: prom and dating.

Or it would've been if I hadn't have seen yet more missing persons signs littering the wooden fences borderlining an old farm which aligned the highway. I think dad once mentioned he knew the owner there, Jack Taggert, whose younger son had died during the 1980's and he'd died at some point during the 90's, with his older son Jack Jr. taking over the farm after his death. Part of me theorised whether his younger son, Billy I think my dad had called him, was a victim of the all too well-known winged bat creature which apparently stalked the area but I tried to push that thought to the back of my mind. Winged, flesh-eating bat creatures weren't real and they never could be. Why? Because evolution had proved such ridiculous theories incorrect; there were no such things as immortal, winged bat men, or even still, winged demons. _It was all totally fictitious_, I told myself for the eighth time that day.

Stepping on the gas pedal a little harder to increase my speed; and get past the cornfield a little faster, seriously those places always really creeped me out, I turned on the radio, probably as a form of distracting myself from my somewhat wilder imagination now that I was alone in the backward county without my dad in the car to comfort me about my winged, bat man fears. To my disappointment, the radio stations were all typical backwards style shows. There was a country music station which really wasn't to my taste by any standards; a conspiracy theory channel which rambled on about how the government was genetically creating werewolves which even I found hard to believe; one news station which only blared out the same depressing information about more disappearance's; and the rest were pretty much those three on repeat. All the music channels weren't my style, the other shows topics either baffled or frightened me, and the news was just depressing. The only other form of channel I found was just unfathomably bizarre hissing, static noises and I figured it wasn't connecting so I shut it off. I cursed myself mentally for leaving all of my CDs and the odd cassette I owned back in my room, and for being so naïve to think I'd actually enjoy any of the news stations found in this neck of the woods.

Letting my imagination run wild was never an intelligent decision after discovering a giant, winged bat creature was stalking this neck of the woods, and all I could now think about was school. Some nagging idea at the back of my head told me everyone in my classes would automatically know who I was, and I figured that might be true; for some reason small towns always made that amazing ability of literally knowing who you were two seconds after arriving, look easy as pie. Judging by the odd bulletin board which flew past as I drove down the lane, I could figure out that my new school's baseball team mascot was a crow named Corny. Even by my standards, that seemed a little cheap, but based off what I'd heard from my uncle Stefan, who was a member of the baseball team, they never really played many games apart from the odd few against Prescott County's surrounding little towns like Walsh Falls, Colbat Cove and Miscousin who all also had baseball teams. I figured building a baseball field was possibly cheaper for the towns of backwood Florida, than building a football one so I figured it actually made sense. Luckily he told me Gym wasn't compulsory by the time of Junior year, so I wasn't going to be forced to, embarrassingly I might add, end up hitting every poor person in my path with a hockey stick.

Part of my mind drifted back to the infamous Robert 'Rob' Alkins, daughter of the 'Town Witch', and regular mysterious guy who enjoyed keeping himself to himself. I wondered if he actually had any friends at Prescott County High, or whether he kept himself totally alone. If he was a member of any athletic teams or intellectual clubs; dad had informed me the school also offered clubs in the forms of a swim team, a cheerleading squad, and two music clubs, a chess team and a debate team. Naturally I figured all the games were played against Walsh Falls, Colbat Cove and Miscousin high schools but I guessed it must be nice knowing your opponents pretty well. Mixes the game up a little. Apparently the baseball team had gone to other places such as Texas and Louisiana a couple of times but they were mainly playing against the usual trio of opponents, despite actually winning all their games against other state baseball teams.

Baseball was a refreshing change to the usual football squads most of the schools I knew of having, because I wondered if maybe baseball players were less hot-headed, arrogant and brash than footballers. I'd always found the art of baseball a little bit more graceful than football with all its practical fights with several boys or men fighting over a ball. In my opinion, English football seemed a lot safer. For some reason simply hitting a ball as far as you can, then running whilst other people ran to catch the ball and throw it down on a diamond so you could be declared 'out' seemed a lot safer than most other sports which mainly compose of smashing into each other. That must be why all the superstitious and incredibly paranoid parents here approved of baseball being the school's main sporting team. With that said, I was the sporting genius who could make volleyball seem dangerous, by accidentally smashing the ball into all my teammate's heads and shoulders when I hit it.

Being caught up in my past life of accidentally attacking people with rubber sports balls almost made me completely miss the small diner situated off to the left of the main highway. Like the creepy old church, the building looked older than most of the houses, although nowhere near as ancient as that creepy demonic dwelling place. The words 'DINER' were lit up in bright, red, almost neon writing which was situated above the old place which looked straight up fifties; it seemed to be constructed of corrugated metal, with deep ridges aligning the outer sides, and the formerly probable shining grey coloured metal was now rusting and faded. Pulling my car into one of the surprisingly few parking spaces, I excited the car and looked around. Then it hit me-the cars were all making small, simplistic pit stops along the highway, like most people often do when they're taking a long trip and have neglected pre-packing food pre-setting off for the journey. My jacket was practically sticking to my skin now, but I'd rather be safe and not perved on, than cool yet harassed so I kept it tightly wrapped around my upper body area.

Pushing the door open as quietly as I could, I was relieved that I didn't get immediate stares from everyone inside the building. Most of them were too caught up in their own conversations and/or eating their meals to pay some random seventeen year old attention when she entered the establishment. The only people who did stare were the waitresses' dresses in their turquoise uniforms, and the busboys in their entirely black getup. I figured the busboy job title was new because most the teenage boy's mulling around's uniforms seemed pretty makeshift-as long as you had a black sleeved t-shirt, black jeans, and a good pair of trainers, along with good manners, eligible writing and a competent memory, you got a job it seemed. Some of them were even smoking whilst delivering the food to the tables, so I figured it was pretty easy to get a job, even for someone as stupid as me. But another voice decided to bring me out of my thoughts.

"Hey new girl!" An over excited, thickly southern accent called and I jumped, almost falling over due to the heels making it hard to jump without stumbling slightly. Did I mention I've not got exactly the best balance, and often end up falling over when someone makes me jump? Call me klutzy, I guess? Well, I think that was just a prime example. Before I could question who'd called my name, a boy, about my age jumped over the counter with all the grace of a cat prowling along a fence. Like me, his skin was pale, which stood out amongst all the tanned teens and sunburned adults who littered the room, at least all of those who were locals to the area. And I could tell he was local because he was wearing one of the now familiarized makeshift busboy outfits like the other four male teenagers circulating the room. All four of them had cast at least three glances my way so far.

The boy in front of me's skin was so pale it was almost luminous, making me look positively rosy in comparison, and the more I looked at it, the more worried about him I became. He looked positively _ill_, he was so pale. Luckily the animated sparkle in his soft brown eyes the colour of fudge made me feel a little more comfortable in his company, and less worried about his health levels. His hair, which was a dark brown with a tinge of red to it, kind of like the fur of a seal, hung around straight and neatly brushed, sweeping just over his shoulder, having been tied back with a solid black hair bobble which stood out against the reddish-tinged brown of his hair. I figured it was for health regulations, so his hair didn't accidentally end up in someone's cheeseburger. His skin was riddled with some of the most amazing tattoos I'd ever seen; there was a large, spiralling combination of colours shaped like the pattern you see inside a kaleidoscope tattooed onto the side of his neck, with several dragons, unicorns and griffin's dancing up and down his arms. They were so spectacular I couldn't help but stare. "Nice, eh, Noelle Manning?" He grinned and I jumped, immediately staring up at him, my eyes widening as I looked up.

"How do you know my name…"

"Small town!" He interrupted cheerfully. "And besides! You're the daughter of now deputy sheriff of the city of Oswell's, Lee Manning! Of course we were pre-informed of you!" He held his hand out and I stared at it dumbly, but managed to take it in time before he believed I was mentally challenged or something along those lines. "I'm James Camacho, but most people call me Jamie, even those who supposedly hate me!" He laughed at that and I felt my eyes widen at his light hearted nature. "I work here, live with my depressed, wretched mom in a caravan about four miles away from this diner and love horror more than your parents love you! Sorry, I'm forgetting myself!" He shook my hand again, harsher and faster this time, grinning like a lunatic. "Welcome to Prescott County, Florida!" He flew his hands above his head all theatrical style and several people stared at that. "Should've been more subtle I think…" He snickered and I stared at him bemused.

"Does everyone here know my name and who my dad was? Or is it just you?" I asked him cautiously, although I practically predicted his answer before he even spoke it.

"Pretty much everyone." He nodded. "Believe me, in small towns like this, nothing gets passed no-one, and everyone knows everything about everyone!" It seemed odd that he sounded so cheerful and optimistic, with his illuminated pale skin, maple brown hair draping across his shoulder, and the sparkling glimmer in his eyes. Especially with an apparent 'depressed, wretched mother', living in a most likely small, slightly cramped trailer, and being totally obsessed with the gory, gruesome, violent world of horror movies. People like him always bemuse people like me, and strike up that typical, bitter cord of envy within us; we wish to be like them-all sunny smiles, constant optimism, and laughing joyfully, happy about even the worst of things you could imagine. "Probably got a few questions of your own, right?" He questioned me and I simply nodded.

"Um…Yeah…Is there any advice you could give me about um…Starting school here?" The constant pausing and mumbling made the sentence painfully longer than it needed to be but he didn't smile cruelly or role his eyes like most people would and stared blankly at me for a couple of seconds before finding an appropriate response.

"Good question!" He grinned, that strong, happy quality hidden within his voice returning with such a smooth, sophisticated ease I immediately envied him a little more, although I knew that was childishly mean and incredibly unfair. "I'd say…" Another pause followed. "Stay away from the cheerleaders, the entire fucking swim team-they're the most arrogant bastards you could ever imagine in your worst school themed nightmare; and the baseball teams captain, although the rest of the team are nice enough, and of course, there is our very own star fielder-Robert, aka Rob, Alkins." I froze and felt my eyes widen in a comical, almost cartoonish fashion. "I'm guessing you've heard about mommy-fearest then, the practically _famous_ Nicole Alkins?"

I nodded. "My mom, Whitney Manning, then Whitney Peck, was sort of friends with her when she first came her in the 1980's, or so my dad says. Do you know anything about her?" I asked him, my curiosity instantly peaking.

To my disappointment he shook his head. "Sorry, Noelle, I haven't got much on the illusive Nicole Alkins. I once took a trip down to her shop, Earth Child Emporium, on White Street but the second I walked in, she gave me this really evil stare and I ended up rushing out about two seconds later. I guess even the town horror nut pissess her off!" I must've given him a confused or bemused look because he chuckled before answering. "Basically, Nicole isn't a big fan of anyone, bar her son and your grandma-no offence." Jamie added quickly but continued speaking. "It's nothing personal, she's just cautious after all those rumours and assumptions which came about after she reappeared in town with Rob, then a baby..."

"Um...Not to seem incredibly brash!" I muttered quickly after interrupting him so suddenly, with a new array of questions already swimming inside my mind. "But, could you possibly tell me a little more about her son, Robert?" I asked the last part quickly, trying to make it seem offhand and not like I'd been wondering it for quite some time, instead of running it over and over inside my head.

Jamie Camacho's face broke into a grin and he looked incredibly mischievous, as if he knew he could get an interesting outcome from this situation. "Sounds fair enough, but I'll only answer you if you explain what that little cast on your wrist symbolises?"

"Car accident." I said quickly and one of those maple coloured eyebrows raised itself slightly amidst his cheerful, elfin features which constantly conveyed a constant sense of happiness and intelligent glee about them. "I wasn't driving, my best friend, Kendell was. We'd been at a birthday party and she always was good at hiding at how much she'd drank…" I trailed off before regaining the ability to talk again. "Basically, she tried to skip a red light, a truck hit her car, and during the chaos I broke my wrist, as well as my leg. But as you can tell, the leg's healed, with the wrist not far behind it. Good job, I'm left handed eh?" That comment made him laugh and he leaned back against the counter which stood, obviously unmoving behind him, an elfin grin shining out from his cleverly composed face. The rest of the diner were ignoring us, and I guess I liked it that way, because I'd rather be the bland furniture piece than the shiny toy everyone wants to manhandle and fuck around with for their own boredom and lack of things to do. "So that's a shortened version of how I broke my wrist. It was actually what made my dad move me out here to live with my gran."

"I'm guessing he isn't a big fan of your best friend, right?" He raised his eyebrow all over again and grinned, knowing he'd read me write.

"He's never been a fan of my friends, but I guess I agree. They were all a little too wild for a boring, rule-obeying girl like myself. I've always got good grades, handed in my projects on time, and haven't had one detention in all my schooling years. Kendell had at least three a week. We were very much divided in more ways than just appearance. Dad wanted me to make better, less wild friends and live somewhere that Kendell's somewhat troublesome attitude couldn't affect me I guess. So he chose his very own hometown."

"Fair explanation," Jamie nodded, "And I guess I can even understand your dad's reasons." I nodded at that. "Besides, I'd much rather be friends with a law-abiding, homework doing, detention-never-receiving type like you than your Kendell best friend forever. I get to look like a total badass!" I smiled myself at that remark. "But more importantly, you won't do stupid things that will make my neurotic mom worry anymore." The look on my face made him enter yet another detour away from the main subject. "My mom was born with a high chance of depression, because both her mom, her granddad and ever her great-grandmother all had it, as well as two of her siblings, meaning she was high in the stakes of getting it. She had postpartum depression after having me, and it would've gone away in about six years but…When I was six my dad died in a car crash and she immediately spiralled back down again, and hasn't been the same since." His facial expression was slightly sad and wistful for the stories telling time, but it immediately returned to his smiling mask a couple of seconds after finishing, although his eyes were faded slightly, having lost their sparkle. "She wrapped herself up in blankets, sitting in bed all day, whilst I wrapped myself up with horror films. Originally the classics-_Dracula_, _The Wolf Man_, _Frankenstein_, but eventually I got into the more conventional stuff like _Halloween_, _Friday the 13__th_ and _A Nightmare on Elm Street_. You into horror?" He asked optimistically, grinning with hope, and I had to disappoint him.

"Not really…" I shook my head. "Dad didn't ever let me watch it and when I did see it in secret at friends sleepovers or whatever, the blood made me feel really sick, even though it was fake. And then I'd always get massive nightmares and have to fake needing the loo at night whenever they woke me up so I wouldn't get teased." I shrugged. "I don't have a problem with others liking them," I interrupted myself, stuttering quickly. "But they're really not my thing…"

"No problem!" Jamie grinned like an extremely happy bunny and patted the top of my head, making me stare up at him, something I found a little strange. He was 5'9", two inches taller than my 5'7", and having the sensation of someone patting my head was a little strange for me, being taller than most of my female friends, and male ones too. "Besides, I'd be happy to show you around school tomorrow," he offered hopefully and I figured he was someone mainly bullied, which he confirmed. "Seeing as half the kids here think liking horror makes you a Satanist, I figured I might need a friend in some form and…Well, to be honest, I was kind of excited when I heard you were emigrating her. I figured I'd finally meet someone who didn't judge me for living in less than ideal circumstances-courteously of mom being too sick to work, liking horror-equalling devil worshipper, and of course-being gay."

"You're gay?" I asked him, slightly surprised of this. He hadn't given off any signs regarding sexuality, and part of me had actually believed him to be asexual for the past twenty minutes of our conversation. "Sorry…I didn't guess…"

"Most people don't guess," he laughed and jumped up slightly so he was sitting on the countertop, hair flopping slightly in front of his eyes so he had to shake his head. "But I am. And it means I'm every parent here's worst nightmare-one of those _homosexuals_," he whispered the last word like it was incredibly taboo before bursting into laughter. "I'm not kidding, people are actually like that, _but_, my sexuality isn't what you wanted to know!" He tapped the side of his nose knowingly, the sparkle returning to his eyes quicker than a stream of light hitting a windowpane. "We're here to discuss the always illusive, yet _incredibly gorgeous_, not to mention gifted sportsman, Rob Alkins." He gestured to the barstool next to him and I sat down on it after thanking him. "Well, to be honest, I think…" But something stopped him, and that something was the sound of the door's automatic jingling noise triggered whenever it was opened. A series of chimes and bells had been woven into one of the loose nails, alerting you whenever it was opened and I turned round in my seat.

Everything about me seemed to just freeze; my blood stopped being pumped round my body via the heart, my lungs quit producing oxygen, and my brain just melted itself down. This _had_ to be Robert Alkins. And he was a lot more attractive than I'd originally imagined him to turn out to be; I'd always figured witches children would look somewhat odd, but he was actually one of the normalest boys I'd seen in quite some while-if you didn't count his superior attractiveness or the strange cloud of malevolence which seemed to seep into the building the second he walked in. all the staff members, and locals, looked up, before all quickly turning their heads away; with the only exceptions being myself and Jamie. Several tourists stared, especially the young female ones, but they looked away after sensing the almost creepy aura which lingered around him. I'd never met someone so young who seemed so frightening or dangerous and never figured I would've, till then.

His skin was chalky, even paler than my own and surprisingly Jamie's, seemingly practically sheet white against all the darkness of his other features. White as paper or swans or…Onion skin I figured at the time. His face was strong and almost sculpted, as if someone had been incredibly careful whilst creating him-maybe God, if he did exist, decided some of us should be attractively gifted much more than other more unfortunate people. It was all angular and sharp, as if nothing about him could be soft or delicate; the slight point at the end of his long, sleek nose, the almond shape of his eyes, his strong, pointed, jawline, the slight point at the end of his chin like that of his nose, and the prominently angular shape of his cheekbones. His lips were thin, curved into a slightly unimpressed sneer, something which diminished his attractiveness slightly, although it seemed as if only I could see that because when I looked back at Jamie, his eyes had clouded over dreamily. His hair was such a deep shade of brown I thought it was black until the light bounced off it and the chocolate colouring shone vibrantly through, and cut neatly, with a fringe and being shorter at the back, matching the creamy brown of his eyes, which were like chocolates. His entire darkly coloured getup made him look incredibly chalkier than normal, with the only exception being his burning crimson shirt which had sloppily cut sleeves. The darkness of his black jeans, black converses and black leather, fingerless gloves was blinding against his pale skin and I swallowed thickly.

"Beautiful, right?" Jamie whispered in my ear and again I jumped at how close he'd suddenly got, although this time it was incredibly embarrassing because I managed to fall off my stool and land on the floor with an echoing thud; people automatically stared and I felt all my blood swill inside my cheeks, turning them a mottled red to match my ears, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was sniffing the air, his nostrils flared, but the ever embarrassing consequences of my clumsy nature made him turn to face me and his eyes widened, dilating slightly. He looked at me, his face a mixture of amazement and horror, before slowly backing away towards the door and exciting smoothly, jumping onto his… _White 66 Harley Davidson_. I froze on the inside.

"What was that?" Jamie giggled, staring down at me from my oh-so _not_ embarrassing position of sitting on the floor, my eyes fixed on the door. "Why did he look at you like that?" He held out his hand and helped my haul myself off the floor. "Don't you want to know my theory about him?" He asked hurriedly and I nodded, although my mind was elsewhere. I'd just possibly angered the son of Prescott County's witch and tomorrow I had the task of facing him at school. _Real smooth move there genius!  
_


	3. Just Like Twilight

**Disclaimer: I don't owner Jeepers Creepers, nor any of the original content which can be found within this fic, they all belong to Victor Salva. Nicole Alkins, Raven 'Robert/Rob' Alkins, Jamie Camacho, Korey Martin, and Pazuzu (to an extent) all belong to the ever wonderful, enjoyable and incredible TheMortition so please checkout 'What Do You Want From Me?' first because it might clear up any plot holes you might find this story has for you!**

**A/N: Here we are! If you can't tell, in this chapter, I out and out say I'm sort of parodying Stephenie Meyer's **_**Twilight**_**. Not in a making fun sense, in a sort of trying out a different version sense. Basically, it's **_**Twilight**_** with demons and a lot more gore, sex and violence! This chapter kind of introduces Korey Martin (from Mortition's story 'Exorcise Me With Your Possession'-again! Please check it out for later referencing), whose living in the town with his dad, stepmum, and stepbrother, along with his demonic son, Dante who's going to pop up later in all of his adorableness! Korey's kind of the sensitive friend, Jamie's kind of the jackass friend, and later I'm going to introduce Emily-Rose Alkins whose sort of the adorable-yet-thick friend! Hope you're enjoying my work, and please R & R. I'm not making a profit, sadly, but I hope you enjoy it anyways! **

Paranoia had gripped its usual talons around me as I lay in bed that night, the image of Robert Alkins white 66 Harley Davidson running through my mind like when someone puts a CD track on loop. Even Jamie's crazy story hadn't drifted my mind away from the chilling image of him hopping on the bike and riding off, his entire body shaking violently, as if trying desperately to control himself. The way he'd backed up, those dark brown eyes boring into me, staring me down as if he was both horrified and terrified by my mere presence in that backwood diner. As for Jamie's theory? He'd got the bright idea that Rob was actually the winged creatures, known as The Creeper by the locals, biological son and was searching for the flesh of humans to feast on like his father before him. Although based off the stories I'd heard from my dad and gran, I figured if Rob Alkins was consuming anything just plain fucked up, it was performance enhancing drugs. Even by my standards of frightening, that was a little far-fetched.

But it didn't stop that image of the bike repeating in my brain, running itself over and over, stuck on a constant loop. I'd fashioned a rather ugly bruise on my right thigh after my less than graceful barstool fall, which I'd cleverly concealed from my nan so she didn't ask any awkward questions which would have led to my shameful explanation. We'd had a rather pleasant, simplistic dinner of sweet potatoes, chicken casserole with steamed vegetables, after which I'd done the washing up and gone upstairs to have a bath, wash my hair, dry it with my hairdryer, and then go to bed. All before ten o'clock; early I know, but I thought getting an early night would improve my mindset, but my ridiculous memory put a rather abrupt halt to my plans. Somehow having brief, yet pleasant conversations, then departing in our own directions worked better for me and Granny Kath. Maybe that was because we'd barely known each other for the past couple of years and I was still settling in, so she was giving me some breathing space? That sounded a lot like something dad would do.

But my overactive imagination made the simple act of trying to sleep near impossible. I kept imagining what this 'Creeper' looked like, with the only constant feature which remained being the large, scaly, almost reptilian like wings extending from his back, illuminated by an eerie white light which seemed to burst out of nowhere-as if a stage queue which was waiting for the appearance of _him_, _it_, _whatever_ it was. A cold, irritating sweat seeped over my body at about 11:45 and made me wriggle uncomfortably in my new bed, curling my legs up to my chest, resting my head on the tops of my knees, trying to make myself as small as possible so the irritancy would get smaller too. Even wearing a plain grey vest top and light blue baggy shorts the sweat seemed to pile up, clinging to my skin in its usual sticky coating, collecting in large, uncomfortable droplets on the back of my bare neck, despite my hair being tied tightly back behind my head in a ponytail. Something about Rob Alkins had made me incredibly uncomfortable to the point my skin prickled just at the thought of him, as I attempted to rationalize why he'd been outside the church that Friday.

_He was probably just doing what my dad used to do_, I told myself. _Hanging around there because it'd be quiet and maybe he was waiting for friends, or they'd already arrived, or something along those lines._ That bought up another question: Did Rob Alkins actually _have _any friends? Being one of the best runners on the baseball team I figured he'd at least have one close friend, and probably a large fanbase as well. When you're an excellent sportsman, especially someone who has the capability to win many games, you're bound to have a large amount of followers buzzing around you, asking you questions, beginning for autographs in some circumstances I figured. In my hometown of Oswell, that would've never happened, but here, I figured a lot more things might just be possible. I mean, these people believed a giant, winged demon loomed the highway skies, picking out its prey based all around fear-why wouldn't they do anything a little bit more abnormal? Even by my standards.

It was 1:48 precisely when I finally managed to calm my nerves and get some sleep, although part of me was dreading that more than being forced to stay awake all night. Nightmares were steadily beginning to form in my mind even before I finally managed to start feeling a familiar warm, sleepy feeling rush over my body. That lulling feeling which would inevitably drag me back into the world of dreams, where anything could be waiting, especially winged bat men wanting to grab me-_STOP!_ I told myself. _It's all just one big stupid legend made up by a load of drunken town loonies and Rob Alkins isn't that things son! Jamie's probably been watching one too many horror films!_ I quickly rationalized that part at least. Due to his, self-admitted, tendency to get a little too into the films he watched, it was obvious how Jamie could've just let them get to him and made him believe Rob Alkins wasn't entirely human. Besides, I figured if Rob Alkins wasn't human, there'd be a lot of missing persons circulating this here area, and Nicole would've moved away to a bigger city where there'd be more prey for him to hunt. Yawning slightly, with the sheets tangling themselves around my creamy, slender legs, my eyes begun to flutter shut, my vision blurring slightly and I knew sleep was winning a battle which was already pretty futile, even by my shitty standards of the word.

_Rob Alkins is a hundred percent human_, I told myself, and then I began repeating it inside my head a smooth, solid movement of words swirling over and over. _Rob Alkins is a hundred percent human. Rob Alkins is a hundred percent human. Rob Alkins is a hundred per…_

* * *

The weather had gone through a bipolar episode when I finally opened my eyes at 7:12 the next morning. A light, greyish-blue mist had settled over Prescott County, and the beginnings of a refreshing drizzle were starting to form, something which greatly uplifted my mood-drizzle was familiarized territory for me, something which reminded me of home and comforted me slightly. Although I could practically hear all the kids across the large sprawl of the open countryside county groan, I didn't care at all. The drizzle hadn't evolved properly into rain yet, so I was safe to venture outside without getting soaked to the skin first, although my ever growing collection of waterproof coats and jackets. Owning a good pair of waterproof boots helped my life become a little bit simpler, and I figured I had somewhat of an edge compared to my new classmates.

Untying my plat and picking up my black plastic hairbrush I began raking through the locks of my reddening brown hair, although mine was a little more on the brown side of the scale compared to Jamie's maple colour. Staring into the mirror, I finally recognized how pale I looked compared to the dark blues, purples, and the odd greens of my new room. I'd managed to make my room much more personalised over Saturday, and I hadn't left the house that day, sorting through objects and arranging them neatly, meaning Sunday was the day I'd adventured outside to explore my new surroundings which ended up with me becoming twice as paranoid as I had been before.

A horrible sick swelling began to form in my stomach as I raked through my clothes, after the dawning realisation that I was going to be forced to see Rob Alkins today, regardless of my nerves. I couldn't hide away from school forever, cooping myself up in my room, pretending none of the events of yesterday had happened. I hoped maybe we could end up on better terms today and maybe work our way around the awkwardness between us. Fumbling through the pieces of clothing which made up my outfit menagerie made me smile slightly to myself-dark clothing looked better on foggy, drizzly days such as today, and I figured I'd accomplish fitting in much better today than I had yesterday-that was in the hope I didn't successfully fall over or do something equally as stupid. I was going to be at reception for nine o'clock so I could know where my first class was at ten past; I'd been told by my dad that, like in Oswell, there were four classes in the morning each an hour long, with one in the afternoon after the hour and ten minute lunch break, then I'd be free to return home. The day sounded pleasant enough, especially because PE wasn't forced upon students at Prescott County High.

Flipping through my extensive waterproof jackets, I decided my light blue one was probably the best if I wanted to fit in. Dark brown, dark blue, or even medium green would seem a little too dark coloured for people around these parts standards; I hadn't even seen the kids, but something told me they'd all be in lightly coloured jackets, maybe even with matching handbags to accomplish their colour coordinating clothes. Part of me smiled at that. Colour coordinating all your outfits amused me for some reason-it was just so perfectionistic. I picked out my light grey, swishing with light blue, t-shirt to go with my light blue jacket and decided that my navy blue jeans worked best, finishing off the outfit with my black waterproof boots. A little too dark, but they were my best pair.

Breakfast was quiet and simple for both me and my nan, but luckily lacked an awkward tone which could've followed. Nan asked me a couple more questions 'was I nervous about school?', 'did I meet anyone at the diner yesterday?', things along those lines worked best for all of us. I told her about Jamie and she shook her head sadly; she knew his mother, Sonya Camacho, and felt bad for her in the state she ended up at after the untimely death of her husband, Dexter. Apparently it'd been a truck which had hit his car, killing him on impact and I'd nodded sympathetically as she'd told me, listening to all the somewhat gory details. I neglected the part about Rob Alkins for both of our sakes-I didn't want her worrying about anything going on in my life, because it wouldn't be good for her health. She kept an array of pictures on the top of her kitchen cabinets-one of her own wedding to my deceased grandfather, Patrick; one of my parents on their wedding day, my mom's usually straight, dark brown hair curled into a series of ringlets around her glowing face, my dad grinning, his purpley-blue eyes glowing with happiness; another photograph of my Uncle Stefan and Aunt Isla's wedding, my uncle's eyes which matched my father's sparkling more than glowing, and my aunt looking incredibly picturesque with her long lace veil trailing around her white-blonde hair; yet another wedding photo, only this time of my Aunt Jess and Uncle John on their wedding, both looking incredibly young at just twenty one, my aunt hadn't inherited the traditional blue eyes, but her own pale green ones ignited the beauty of her face, with my uncle looking much more laid back with his shortly shaven black hair practically stubble. The only other photos were composed of school pictures taken of Luke, Annette and myself; Uncle Stefan and Aunt Isla's kids, my cousins, Henry-now sixteen, and Celeste-now fifteen; with a final complementary set of Aunt Jess and Uncle John's only daughter, Olivia.

It was strange seeing myself with gappy teeth aged five, and my cheeks chubby like a chipmunks, my dark hair pulled back into a ponytail as I grinned animatedly for the camera placed in front of me; it was stranger still seeing Luke aged nine with his dark, ringlet style curls brushing in front of his face as he grinned mischievously for the camera, back then I could never imagine him marrying at twenty one; but stranger still was seeing Annette when she was nine, with her sandy blonde straight hair swinging down past her shoulders, her pale, china doll like innocence shimmering through the glossy glass framing. You would've never guessed she'd end up nearly on drugs and having to spend time in a 'clinic' for bipolar disorder induced via excessive stress; but it was a pleasant surprise that she'd been able to get her life back on track, and was now attending art college. Sometimes I never understand why men don't flock around my beautiful older sister, with her total perfection and the sheer amount of head turning she did upon entering a room, like she possessed some bizarre magically ability when it came to making people automatically find her attractive.

Standing at an incredibly impressive 6'1" for a nineteen year old girl, with the build of someone who should be found in underwear catalogues, and probably one of the worst big sisters you could ever imagine appearance wise. Not to mention she's practically the most beautiful girl on earth, at least by my current standards. Sure, I don't know too many people, especially female ones, but based upon looking at most women you see on the street, I've figured that she must be at least in the Top 10 of "10 'Normal' Women Who Are Completely Gorgeous". Pale, like me, with a creamy peachy tinge to her skin which my ivory-skinned pallor could never accomplish having; having my heart-shaped face and slim jawline, but she possesses strong cheekbones and a smaller nose, with fuller, rose petal lips. Her eyes however, aren't the purpley-blue Luke and I have, instead mom's warm hazel tinted with navy blue. Her face is outlined with long wavy blond hair that falls halfway down to the middle of her back that perfectly suits her hazel-blue eyes and perfected figure. Even when she was washed out and borderline on drugs, she still managed to look apathetically innocent and tortured, unlike Luke or myself who'd just look like drugged up junkies. I guess I envy my big sister, but have come to accept there's nothing I can change about myself, at least through legal means.

* * *

Grabbing my blue satchel on the way out, calling goodbye to my grandma, I excited to my car and began the twenty-something minute drive to my school. But it didn't stop the already swelling feeling of sickness and panic which was beginning to develop within my stomach the second I stepped inside my car. Despite the student body being incredibly low in number, it didn't diminish my fear of them all. In small towns, everyone's been to school with everyone and outsiders are never welcome; I can only scrimp these lines because of who my father is. Even then I wasn't too sure people were going to be too accepting when I finally arrived at the school. Increasing the speed of my car, nervous I'd be late, my head turned to the side automatically, staring out into the countryside; there was a larger selection of houses in the direct Prescott town, most of which housed the children who attended the junior and high schools. I figured myself; Jamie and Rob Alkins were some of the few people who lived outside the main town circuit.

It was helpful that the school wasn't hard to miss, being located on the very outskirt of the town, probably so children from the countryside area could also find the school just as easily as the inner town kids. The school wasn't like many schools I'd attended; it wasn't split into separate blocks like my previous school, it was just one huge, slightly squarish shaped building, built from several tan coloured bricks with a corrugated white roof. The parking lot was full of cars already, with two stereotypical yellow school buses off just to the side. Several trees and shrubs surrounded the place, simply because it was located on the edge of the local swamp. I remembered how Jamie had told me that the school often attended school trips out to the swampland to study the deer, frogs and birds which lived out there, as well as the plants and checking that the water wasn't dangerous for the animals. On the odd occasion they were allowed to do outside lessons within the swamp, which were fun, but only sport trips were really done for the various teams.

Drawing my car into one of the free parking spaces, I gently opened my car door and shut it behind me, locking the door carefully before I began walking forwards towards the building situated at the very front of the school. Located just off to the side of the main entrance was a little building extended onto the side of the school with the words 'RECEPTION' neatly blocked out on a small banner over the set of double doors located at the front. I figured that this was where I needed to go to collect my timetable. The rain was still at drizzle level, meaning I was tolerating the weather, but a lot of the other kids looked unhappy and uncomfortable because rain wasn't a regular even out here, as I'd 'oh so cunningly figured out'. I got the odd glance, but luckily no-one paid me too much attention, probably because they hadn't truly figured out who I was, not just yet.

Inside it was warm and I enjoyed the feeling of hot air creeping up my skin, numbing the chilling cold of the outside, and little droplets of drizzle stained the glass, sliding down pitifully. Like all school offices, its walls were covered in little awards and certificates, and a large ticking clock sat on the wall, displaying the time for anyone who entered. The floor was carpeted, a standard bluey-green colour, nothing too extravagant. Several plastic grey chairs littered the sides of the room, and a couple of plants hovered around the main desk area which was situated directly opposite the door.

The harsh wind which whipped through the air stopped the second I wrenched the reception room's door open and stepped inside, my hair flailing out around my head madly like someone had directly stuck a couple of hairdryers around me and switched them onto the highest wind level. Cold wind shot through the room, making the secretary at the desk shiver. She was a young woman, only about twenty-eight, with a long stream of coal black hair tied into a neat plat which swept round the side of her face and went well with her beige coloured eyes. Dressed in a light pink blouse and black pencil skirt, she was tapping carefully away at her computer, eyes fixated upon it. Her skin was creamy, like milk chocolate and as I got closer, I could see there was a name tag attached to her pink blouse; it had the name 'Stephanie Finch' written on it, and I was surprised that she wasn't simply Ms, Miss or Mrs Finch. Maybe people were just more informal out here, I couldn't tell yet.

"Um…Excuse me?" I asked, somewhat nerves detectable in my voice, but I tried to null them down so she didn't think I was anywhere near as frightened as I felt. The sound of my voice made her look up, her dark eyes hitting me and studying my face, confusion passing across her face when she didn't immediately recognized me how she probably could recall every teenager who came into this office's name.

"Yes, may I help you?" Her voice was polite and calm, although her accent originated somewhere from the north of America, not the southern drawl the likes of myself or Jamie possessed.

"I'm Noelle Manning, the new student," I added the last part on the end just in case she didn't realise I was the new student. I then realize how patronizing that must've sounded and cursed myself inside my head; I couldn't believe I'd possibly gotten off on the wrong foot with Ms Finch, but luckily she didn't seem too peeved at my response, and instead sorted through a carefully sorted wrack of paper, finally pulling out a sheet which had my timetable on it and politely leaned forwards, leaving it suspended in the air and I took it from her hand.

"There you go," she nodded politely.

"Thank you." Was my quiet response, although her sharp ears must've picked up on it before I turned to leave, on which she called out to me.

"Excuse me! I also have a map of the school if you'd like it?" That made me turn around and head back towards the counter of which her desk was hidden behind. Several photos cluttered the desk, as well as a plushie lizard, and several stationary pieces were positioned around the computer. Two other secretaries sat further back in the office and I realised the building was bigger than I'd originally perceived; they probably took turns serving at the main desk so all of the work wouldn't be forced on Stephanie Finch.

I politely took the map out of her hands and smiled, which she returned, before I turned around and ventured back out into the cold, drizzling air. Some secretaries go through the school route but something told me that Stephanie was new to the job, so she didn't know everything about the job. She simply told me to have a nice day and I replied with a slightly overused 'you too' before leaving the office properly, venturing into the rain which had deeply increased since I'd accepted a map from Ms Finch. The rain was pelting down in bigger drops and smacking against the parking lots tarmac, but I tried to ignore it and took a brief glance at the timetable I'd been so courteously given by Stephanie Finch. More students had arrived by now, but I tried to ignore them, and they ignored me luckily as I walked back to my expensive car. To my relief, there were other expensive looking cars parked in the lot, most much more pricey looking than mine. I hated to think how much my car had cost dad, but I tried to reassure myself that he worked as a deputy sheriff, so he'd got enough income to support himself and mom, especially because she also worked which was a relief.

My rain boots made sloshing noises as I walked across the puddles which were quickly forming now, my first lesson was Biology with a Mr Allen, and I was feeling slightly more optimistic about it than other classes. Biology had been my favourite science class since I started high school, so it was relieving that it was my first lesson every day; checking back to my time table, it was actually my last lesson as well. Inbetween sat Maths with Mrs Blair, English with Mr McPherson and Art with Mr Swanson for me, and I hoped Jamie might be in at least one of those three classes with me so I had someone to actually speak with. It was strange the way I had these five lessons every day, never changing, but I figured they weren't too bad, even by my standards.

"Hey Noelle!" A familiar voice called and I turned around to see Jamie Camacho walking towards me, although skipping might be the more appropriate term now that I look back on it. He was smiling as if it was his naturally programmed response to all situations, although the cheery disposition he seemed to carry himself with fit perfectly like a glove. Dressed like some bizarre Slipknot homage, he grinned at me; entirely black, his outfit, but it didn't surprise me too much to be honest. "Loving the car still," he grinned and nodded before glancing back at his own means of transport-a black, rather old looking bicycle. "Pretty pitiful, isn't it!" He laughed though, not moping like most people would. "But I love it," he nodded, "I think it's just fine for me!"

"Don't you have a car?" I asked, trying not to seem incredibly snobby or rude, instead sounding awkward and stumbling, but he just laughed it off and I relaxed.

"Well, yeah, but mom won't let me use it." He sighed, running a hand through his long hair which hung around his shoulders and fluffing it outwards slightly, how girls sometimes do but less effeminate. "Because dad died in a car accident she refuses to let me so much as edge towards the car without her being in it with me. Dad was a criminal speeder and that was what ended up killing him; he was going at over a hundred mph down one of the back roads situated around this place-probably just for fun, y'know-and he ended up swerving out the way so he didn't hit a deer…His car hit a tree and…He died on impact. So, if you can't guess, I fucking hate deer!" He laughed at that but there was a sad, somewhat lonely undertone to his voice I detected the second his lips pursed to let out a laugh.

"I'm sorry!" It was an automatic response on my behalf. "You must really think people like me are so fucking stupid for having friends who get them into car accidents," I held up my wrist and he laughed slightly, shaking his head.

"I don't hate anyone, Noelle," he smiled and this time, to my relief, it was genuine. "I just think my dad was being stupid-as per usual. He thought driving like a lunatic was a good pastime and look where that got him: dead and buried. Of course, he didn't know it was going to do that, but if you plan on driving at over seventy on a thirty road, you've kind of got it coming. I'm more surprise he didn't get anyone else hurt during his time on the road," Jamie nodded. "I mean, if you're gonna be a shit driver, at least don't endanger others, but he did. I'd often be stuck in the car with him when he was driving like a maniac; being a little kid however, I thought it was all a game and if he hadn't died well…I might've ended up driving just like him. Anyways!" His bright smile returned and he gestured to the pieces of paper in my hand. "Mind if I see your schedule? See if you're stuck with me in any classes?"

"Oh sure," I smiled, feeling slightly flustered and passed him my schedule, which he closely studied, eyes flicking over the lessons.

"Oh god I pity you…" He muttered under his breath before tutting slightly, shaking his head and staring back at me, his face solemn. I felt my stomach drop and my eyes widen at his disappointed, or should that be upset, facial expression. "You're stuck in all my classes!" At that I burst out laughing, my hair falling in front of my face loosely, briefly clouding my vision before I looked back up at him, smiling.

"I don't think that's a bad thing," I smiled at him and he smacked me on the arm lightly, grinning like a maniac. "In fact, I'm very happy I have you with me! You can protect me from all those evil swim club members you were warning me about yesterday!" With that it was his turn to burst out laughing and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, hugging me slightly to him, still chuckling.

"For a sheriff's kid, you're pretty funny!" He grinned down at me.

"And for a drunk's kid you're pretty funny too!" That just made him laugh harder and I relaxed slightly, jokes like that can go either ways, and I'd put my neck on the line making it; if the payoff had failed, I could've lost my only friend I'd made in this town. "No offense though," I added quickly, just to be save. "I could never dream of offending you!"

"Don't apologize," he smiled down at me. "At least you're humouring me and not teasing me like so many people. Besides," he added with another grin, only this one was more excitable and there was a glint in his eye which told me something. "I do have some friends," he nodded as if affirming it to himself. "Yep! Believe it or not! Good old freaky James Camacho has accomplished the art of making friends. Why am I telling you this now, Ms Manning? Well, I just saw one of them role his sorry ass into the parking lot!" The way he called me 'Ms Manning' reminded me slightly of James Bond and Miss Moneypenny-although I figured Jamie and I's relationship was very much similar. "Korey _motherfucking _Martin and Veronica _bitchy_ Alkins!" He waved at a boy and girl getting out of a car-some silver make of a Volvo, but I've never been too accurate with cars.

"You call your friends that?" I asked Jamie; surprised he could be so rude to the boy I assumed was his best friend and the girl I assumed was at least his close friend.

"Oh naturally!" Jamie nodded as the boy known as Korey headed over, whilst the girl, Veronica, stayed, clearly locking the car which must've been hers'. There was something about Korey which reminded me of Jamie to an extent; his hair, like Jamie's, was longer than most boys I've known's, only it just brushed his jawline, like it'd recently been cut. He was 5'6", an inch smaller than me which made me feel slightly embarrassed, and the brightest hazel eyes I'd ever seen. Unlike Jamie, his face was much more adult looking though, much sharper and defined, and he was dressed in more conventional clothing. Black waterproof, navy jeans, brown hiking boots. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, bright red, and looked slightly confused when he saw me. "This is Sheriff Manning's daughter!" Jamie called, and Korey simply nodded, only speaking when he finally reached us.

"I pity you," he chuckled, "being stuck with Jamie all alone-you must have a strong spirit to put up with him. Noelle right?" I nodded and he stuck out a hand which I graciously took. "I'm Korey Martin, as Jamie explained," he shot a false glare in my oldest friend here's direction, "And the girl faffing with the car back there is my boyfriend's adoptive sister, Veronica Alkins." A large bang sounded, followed by the irritating blare of a car alarm and a lot of cursing. Veronica wasn't agreeing with the car.

"You're gay?" I asked, trying not to sound rude or homophobic in any means. "Sorry!" I added quickly, "I just didn't figure I'd meet to gay people attending one school who were practically best friends."

Both of them laughed, but it was Korey who answered my statement. "In a town like this, we gay guys have to stick together! Normally, I'd try and keep as far away from this horror film psycho as I could, but no-one else accepted me when I arrived just under a year ago, so I was stuck with this bastard ever since." He chuckled, before looking back at Veronica, who had finally managed to get the car under control but was walking off in another direction; long blood red hair was flying off in opposite directions as she ran for cover from the wind and rain which had hit hard. "Don't mind Alkins," he said it in a way which made me know she was referred to by her surname and not her first. "She hates the rain-always has. Almost as much as Pazuzu."

"Pazuzu?" I asked, bewildered.

"Oh sorry!" Korey smacked his forehead. "Pazuzu's my boyfriend and Alkin's adoptive brother, they all live with Ms Alkins on her giant farm with her son, Rob." My stomach plummeted at that-I was now in direct contact with Robert Alkins…The boy who'd looked at me like I was a meal and who I'd seen outside the creepy, demon church.

"Do you hang out with your boyfriend's adoptive family much?" I asked, trying not to let my nerves show but Jamie went and revealed it all anyways.

"We had a run in with Gorgeous Alkins yesterday," he said cheerily, "And he gave Noelle this really weird look. It was like he wanted to fuck, kill, then eat her all for his own sexual amusement!" I shuddered at that and he patted my shoulder. "No offence, Noe, but…That was the vibe I picked up from him."

"You should be flattered!" Korey interrupted, obviously trying to lighten the tone significantly from the dark drop it'd taken. "Rob barely looks at anyone these days, bar his family, me and Jamie. If you can make him look like he wants to have sex with you, it's a complement-although a strange one. People thought I was weird for attracting Pazuzu because he never seemed interested in anyone til he met me, you get used to it."

"How many of them are there?" I asked, voice practically a whisper, and my voice trembled slightly. "The Alkins family I mean…"

"Six altogether, if you count Ms Alkins," Korey answered, and I figured it'd be him. He knew the family better-he was dating one of the members for Christ's sake! "Four adoptive children-Pazuzu, his real name's Patrick but I nicknamed him that, like the demon from _Exorcist 2_ because his mom looks like Linda Blair; Alkins-the older girl, she's okay but can be either incredibly grumpy or incredibly annoying, sometimes both if you're unlucky; Alastor-the eldest boy, and he's not at school anymore, he manages the store for their mom whilst she's painting; and then there's Emily-Rose, the youngest girl, and she's in the year below us, the nicest I'd say, as well as most approachable. Pazuzu and Rob are both in our year, Emily's a Junior, whilst Alkin's actually a teaching assistant now, and Alastor's turning twenty in December."

"They're like the Cullens in _Twilight_!" Jamie laughed and we both stared at him, before Korey continued talking whilst Jamie chuckled at his joke.

"Well, if this is _Twilight_, I'm Bella to Pazuzu's Edward," that made me laugh and Korey smiled at me. "Seriously though, don't take Rob giving you a bit of a weird look negatively, in fact, like I said, see it more as a complement. Barely any of the girl's here get his attention, so if you can get it just by being a room, you're different to say the least. You in all of Jamie's lessons?" Korey asked.

"Yep," was my response.

"Well, you're with me too!" He grinned, "And if you're lucky, you'll be put with me in most classes. I figured they'd stick Manning next to Martin!" He looked at Jamie who'd begun to walk towards the school, although he was approaching a small gaggle of teens, which I realised were the Alkins' family and my stomach clenched but Korey smiled at me. "Jamie's lucky enough to be sat next to Rob in Art and he never shuts up about it. He's um…" Korey faltered and stared ahead, blinking quickly, as if he was nervous. "He's liked Rob for a long time and at one point it looked like Rob was interested, til yesterday apparently…Don't know why." Korey shook his head. "But it's awkward at lunch when we sit with them now. Just…Try and ignore that, kay? It's not your fault if Rob's taken a liking to you, and Jamie won't care too much. Plenty more fish in the sea, eh?" On that note the bell rang and he grinned at me, face softening. "Well, shall I walk you to class my fair lady?" With that all I could do was laugh and nod. That went better than I expected.


End file.
